


Welcome Home

by UrsulaAngstrom



Category: Starsky & Hutch
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-05
Updated: 2015-04-05
Packaged: 2018-03-21 07:21:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3683136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UrsulaAngstrom/pseuds/UrsulaAngstrom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Starsky has a holiday surprise for Hutch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Welcome Home

This is a Starsky/Hutch story I wrote in 2000.  
This story is R Rated  
The story is set during the Easter Holidays.

______________________________________________________________

Welcome Home

By Larkspur (AKA: Ursula Angstrom)

Hutch found the first egg in the downstairs foyer near the mailbox. He knew the red plastic egg had been left there by his favorite Jewish Easter Bunny when he saw the interlocking blue hearts Starsky had painted on the outside of the plastic shell.

One heart was cobalt blue. The other heart was sky blue.

Hutch laughed joyously as he picked up the palm-size treasure. The egg was full of something that rattled when he shook it.

Grinning from ear-to-ear, Hutch popped open the plastic egg and a shower of red candy hearts pelted his boots and the linoleum. Starsky had bought the cinnamon-flavored treats on Valentine’s Day and saved some of them until Easter so he could create a delightful surprise.

“Sentimental fool,” Hutch murmured affectionately, as he popped a cinnamon heart into his mouth while he read the note Starsky had taped inside the painted top of the red egg.

I MISSED YOU! The note said, though they had talked on the phone every day during their work-related separation.

Hutch found the second egg in his mailbox. It was tucked between bills and junk mail. This egg was lemon yellow and Starsky had painted two eyes and a smile on the plastic shell.

Hutch smiled at the yellow egg as he inadvertently pulverized a few of the candy hearts with the soles of his cowboy boots.

Opening the egg expectantly, Hutch found a smile face sticker pressed into the bottom of the plastic eggshell. Starsky had altered the eyes so they looked like they were squinting. Then he drew a tongue on the grinning mouth so it looked like the smile face was sticking its tongue out at him.

GOTCHA! was written on a file folder label Starsky had affixed inside the other half of the egg.

Hutch was still giggling when he found the third egg at the bottom of the stairs.

“I’m going to run out of pockets,” Hutch murmured, tucking the red egg into the right pocket of his short butterscotch leather jacket before he tucked the yellow egg into the left pocket. 

Hutch laid the mail down on the third step so he could open the lime green egg.

The green egg was much bigger than the red egg or the yellow egg. It was the size of a 3 x 5 picture frame, but it was still shaped like an egg. Starsky had painted two almond-shaped eyes on the egg before he transformed the rest of the large egg into a gargoyle-like creature with feral green eyes and a spooky face.

Starsky considered himself a doodler, but his drawings were always imaginative. Like the paintings on the eggs, Starsky’s sketches ran the gamut from whimsical to mysterious. Delighted by the romantic treats, Hutch sat down on the carpeted wooden steps and eagerly opened the green egg.

Something as tawny as a cougar popped out of the egg like a jack-in-the-box!

Startled but elated, Hutch picked up the crumpled scrap of fabric and shook it out so he could find out what it was.

The gift in the green egg was a cougar-pelt thong that was lined with lion-colored suede! Hutch laughed and blushed as he stretched the skimpy garment between his splayed fingers. The thong was cut low in the front and high on the sides so the v-shaped codpiece would cup his genitals provocatively while the cleft strap dug into the tender flesh between his nether cheeks.

“You expect me to squeeze myself into this?!” Hutch shouted incredulously.

Hutch didn’t have to be in his apartment to see Starsky’s Cheshire Cat smirk. His partner’s wicked glee was so palpable to Hutch; the aroused blond cop could feel Starsky’s longing singing through his veins like a siren’s song.

Hutch gaped when his perspicacious lover suddenly started playing his guitar in the room above him.

Hutch laughed merrily. “A little mood music, Starsk?”

Starsky impishly replied by plucking the famous song that strippers took their clothes off to. Hutch had never met anyone who knew the title of that song. Nobody cared what the title of that song was. When people heard that song, they knew it meant someone was going to start getting naked, and that’s all that mattered to voyeurs.

Hutch was very glad the apartment across the hall was unoccupied at the moment. It would have been very embarrassing if a neighbor had traipsed out the door while he was undressing on the stairs.

Hutch took off his snakeskin cowboy boots so he could slide off his tight bell-bottom jeans. Blushing to the roots of his fair hair, Hutch also peeled off his saffron briefs.

Yellow was one of Hutch’s favorite colors and Starsky had thrown out all of his ‘boring white briefs’ and ‘those ridiculous boxer shorts’ three days after they’d become lovers. In their place, Starsky had bought briefs of every hue but pink.

Hutch’s new underwear also came in every fabric but lace.

Hutch still preferred cotton briefs for daytime wear, so he wore navy blue or black briefs to work like Starsky did. But when they were alone together at night, he wore whatever struck his fancy--or whatever pleased Starsky—depending on their mood.

They hadn’t seen each other for over a week, so Hutch expected an exuberant reception. The unexpected egg hunt was a delightfully erotic surprise, so Hutch was happy to oblige his playful, inventive lover. He slipped into the cougar-pelt thong, reveling in the sensuously soft texture of the expensive suede lining as he tucked his hardening genitals into the tight cod piece; wriggling as he adjusted the waistband and the strap that bisected the cleft of his ass.

“Sensualist!” Hutchinson hissed, as the come-hither caress of the golden-brown fabric drew him towards Starsky like a moth to a flame.

Belatedly, Hutch realized he hadn’t looked for a note inside the lime green egg, when he saw the purple egg on the fourth step. Squirming impatiently, Hutch put his jeans back on and carefully zipped the fly after easing his swollen genitals into the tight confines of the restrictive denim prison. 

Hutch gingerly sat down on the steps again, so he could pull his boots back on. When he got his rampaging hormones under control, Hutch looked for the note.

The note inside the green egg said: I ENJOY BEING ENVIED. LET’S MAKE THE GREEN-EYED MONSTERS DROOL, HUTCH!

The lusty compliment made Hutch’s balls ache. 

Looking up at his door, Hutch listened to Starsky play his guitar; feeling every chord pluck a different nerve in his body like there was a psychic connection between his mind, those strings, and Starsky’s nimble, evocative fingers.

Wanting to reciprocate, Hutch took his notebook out of the inner pocket of his leather jacket and wrote Starsky the following note: I’M THE ONE THEY ENVY, STARSK. YOU’VE GOT THE FACE OF A SORCERER, THE BODY OF A SYLVAN GOD, AND YOU’RE AS HORNY AS A SATYR. WHO WOULDN’T WANT WHAT I’VE FOUND IN YOU? YOU’RE EVERYTHING I EVER WANTED AND SO MUCH MORE.

When he was done, Hutch tore the piece of paper out of his notebook and transformed it into a little origami swan. Then he tucked the paper bird into the plastic egg, and poked it into the pocket of his green T-shirt, so Starsky would see the eyes staring back at him when he took off his jacket.

The painting on Purple Egg Number 4 harked back to that goofy song about Purple People-Eaters. Starsky had painted a horned monster devouring a man cock-first on the shell of the egg. The drawing was erotic and scary at the same time, because the vampire-like creature had some wicked looking fangs and teeth.

The purple egg was the same size as the lime green egg, and the contents of the egg were even more provocative. The fourth egg contained two multi-colored magician’s scarves. The note inside the egg referred to the alias Hutch had used during their recent undercover assignment at Bay City General Hospital.

I’M SURE YOU KNOW WHAT TO DO WITH THESE DR. THORSTON. TAKE TWO OF THESE AND TIE ME TO YOUR BED UNTIL MORNING!

Hutch’s cock was throbbing even before he lifted the flap of the hand-written note and saw the words: I LOVE TO WATCH YOU EASE YOURSELF ONTO ME AND RIDE ME LIKE I’M A BROC YOU’RE TRYIN’ TO BUST. YEE HA!

Just the memory of what it felt like to impale himself on Starsky’s erect, dagger-length cock nearly drove Hutch to his knees as his ass clenched with longing.

Blinded by lust, Hutch grabbed the railing and pulled himself up. Then he staggered up the stairs and eagerly scooped up the turquoise egg that was decorated with fleecy white clouds.

The fifth egg was in the middle of the staircase and Hutch found five golden cockrings inside the egg-shaped treasure chest. Starsky’s note said: I COULDN’T WAIT UNTIL CHRISTMAS.

The note was written on a gift tag that had a very pornographic picture of a young muscular Santa sporting an impressively red hard-on. Mrs. Claus was naked and sucking his cock ardently while male and female elves cavorted in various lusty heterosexual, homosexual and bisexual combinations around a throne made of candy canes. 

Hutch laughed uproariously when he read the fine print on the back of the X-rated gift tag. Starsky had bought the cockrings at a place called Santa’s Sex Shoppe!

Starsky had also signed the back of the gift tag with a smile face that had a wickedly familiar lopsided grin.

Egg Number Six was orange and it was the size of a football! It was adorned with a painting of a winking jack-o-lantern that was smirking lasciviously. The egg sat on the top step, canted jauntily against the wall under the railing. Inside the egg, Hutch found a very kinky gift that Starsky had obviously bought at Santa’s Sex Shoppe too. 

The anal plug was attached to an elaborate black leather harness, which featured leather genital restraints too.

The erotic portent of the kinky sex toy aroused Hutch so much and so fast, the overstimulated blond couldn’t move for a couple of minutes. Hutch was spellbound by the kaleidoscopic fantasies his horny mind conjured up. Then he read Starsky’s note and a ball-wrenching surge of desire almost made Hutch cream his jeans.

TEASE ME, BABE.

The thought of Starsky wearing nothing but the harness at his behest almost pushed Hutch over the edge of his endurance threshold!

Hutch was so hot and so hard, he felt like his balls were going to burst as he bent down to scoop up Egg Number 7.

Starsky had propped the seventh egg against the door of the vacant apartment as a wicked reminder that he would have arranged this erotic Easter Egg Hunt whether a tenant occupied the other apartment or not!

“Pervert,” Hutch murmured affectionately, as he admired the psychedelic paint job on the outside of the plastic egg.

Starsky had painted the egg with so many swirling colors; Hutch couldn’t deduce what the original color of the egg was until he opened it.

It was another yellow egg. Mindful of the GOTCHA! note he’d found in the last yellow egg, Hutch suspiciously removed the unique piece of silver jewelry he found inside the egg. 

The Sterling silver charm was shaped like a skeleton key. Starsky had pressed the tip of the key into a piece of sticky double sided tape which had been placed in the middle of a heart shaped sticker that lined the bottom of the egg. The tape transfixed the key in the center of the heart like it was one of Cupid’s arrows.

STARSK was written in blue ink in the center of the heart sticker.

The Key to Starsky’s Heart was engraved on both sides of the key’s shaft. The date on one side of the skeleton key was the day they met at the Policy Academy. The date engraved on the other side of the key commemorated the date of the first time they made love.

As soon as I find out where you got this, I’m going to buy you a gold one just like it, Starsk.

Marveling at the precious trinket he held in his hand, Hutch smiled radiantly as he opened his jacket and plucked his key ring out of the reinforced pocket. As he slipped the engraved key next to his keys to the Torino, Hutch thought, You are one of a kind, Babe. I’ve never loved anyone this much!

Hutch looked at the door of his apartment with abject longing. He couldn’t wait to burst through the door, take Starsky in his arms, and make love to him until dawn.

But he had to wait. There were more eggs on the landing.

 

Hutch was so startled when the guitar playing suddenly stopped, he didn’t realize there was a slip of paper attached to Egg Number 8. 

When the guitar playing suddenly resumed on the other side of the door to Apartment 2B, Hutch looked down and belatedly noticed that the black cat egg had a paper tail. The tail had been tucked under the door so Starsky would know he was right outside as soon as the paper tail disappeared when he picked it up.

Hutch realized four things simultaneously. 1. Starsky had a co-conspirator that was hiding in his apartment. 2. Starsky and the co-conspirator had to be communicating by walkie-talkie because their timing was so precise. 3. Starsky had either asked his landlord for the key to 2B (and made Old Man Thomas very curious), or 4. Starsky had committed B&E to arrange whatever surprise awaited him on the inside of the vacant apartment.

Black Cat Egg Number 8 was festooned with felt ears, white plastic whiskers and luminous jaguar-green eyes. Hutch could smell the pungent aroma of the black licorice jellybeans that were hidden inside the egg when he shook it. 

The unidentifiable song Starsky was playing suddenly stopped. Then Starsky began playing a song Hutch DID recognize. 

Hutch laughed merrily when Starsky began singing Sonny and Cher’s hit: I’ve Got You Babe.

“I owe you one Huggy!” Hutch shouted gleefully. 

Starsky’s co-conspirator had to be their mutual friend and favorite bar owner.

When Hutch opened Black Cat Egg Number 8, a cascade of black jelly beans tumbled out of the egg, sweeping a brass key onto the floor as another hailstorm of candy pelted his boots.

This key would actually open the door of 2B. The brass key looked exactly like the key to his apartment and 2B was engraved on one side of the key. Just as the words To Be or Not To Be? were engraved on the other side of the key.

Laughing, Hutch slipped the key into the lock and discovered that it was a perfect fit. But he couldn’t open the door. Starsky had wrapped so much clear packing tape around the hot pink egg that was tied to the doorknob, Hutch had to use his pocketknife to set the pink egg free. Then he had to slice and unwrap all the sticky tape before the doorknob would even turn.

When the doorknob quit rattling, Starsky stopped singing long enough to tell his eager lover, "Open the egg before you open the door, Hutch!”

“Yes, Mother,” Hutch grumbled impatiently.

Indifferent to his plight, Starsky just laughed on the other side of the door.

Shaking off the last clinging bits of the packing tape, Hutch smiled at the pink elephant Starsky had painted on Egg Number 9. Along with a note from Starsky that said, Everytime I look At You I Feel Drunk With Desire, Hutch found a provocative coupon for a case of edible body paint. 

A second note inside the other half of the egg said: LET’S CREATE A CANVAS THAT’LL BE GOOD ENOUGH TO EAT, BABE!

Feeling loved and adored, Hutchinson's heart soared! Starsky always made him feel so special. What did I ever do to deserve you, Starsk? Heart bursting with longing and joy, Hutch picked up the next egg with a lump in his throat that was almost as big as the knot that was making his cock throb like a second heartbeat.

Egg Number 10 was on the welcome mat Hutch found when he opened the door to Apartment 2B. He picked it up without really looking at it, because the strange foyer someone had created with black curtains intrigued him. The curtains dramatically blocked his view of the apartment’s interior. He had to enter the apartment, step on the welcome mat and climb two wooden steps to enter the elevated foyer. 

As soon as he stepped onto the raised wooden floor something beeped and a partition dropped out of a hidden slot behind him, descending like the wooden blade of a guillotine! He was trapped as soon as it slammed shut with a resounding BANG!

Hutch whirled, drew his Magnum, and pointed it at the place where he suddenly heard a click above him. 

He saw the hidden speakers tucked into the back corners of the box at the same time Starsky spoke.

“Relax,” Starsky crooned. “You’re as skittish as a horse trapped in his stall during a summer storm, Babe.”

Heart racing, cock throbbing, Hutch let out a relieved sigh and gradually calmed down as he holstered his powerful gun.

The hot, husky timbre of Starsky’s voice meant his partner was very aroused but he was also determined to tantalize him until he was out of his mind with desire.

“Open the egg before you try to get out of the box, Babe.”

Hutch had forgotten all about the egg he had dropped. 

Thankfully it was a plastic egg too, so he didn’t break it. Hutch laughed even before he read the words written on the masking tape that was wrapped around the seam of the white egg. 

Hutch didn’t care how Starsky could see him and hear him; he was too busy imagining his macho partner putting the Legg’s egg on the cashier’s conveyor belt at Frank’s Market!

“I would have loved to be in the security office watching you through the surveillance cameras while you sauntered down the hosiery aisle, Starsk!”

“Talk about incongruous!” Hutch gasped, unable to stop giggling. “They probably thought you were a shoplifter with a foot fetish!”

When Hutch finally caught his breath, he giggled one last time and said, “I can hear the guards now, ‘What’s Mr. Macho Strut doin’ down there?’ Hutch twanged. ‘Bet he’s a klepto’” Hutch agreed in a different silly voice.

Starsky laughed with his partner, but he was getting impatient too. 

“Oh, shut up and open the egg, Ollie.”

Hutch grinned, remembering the many times they’d dressed up like Laurel and Hardy to entertain kids at schools or adults at costume parties.

The words on the masking tape wrapped around the seam of the clever marketing gimmick said: A PRESENT FOR MY FAVORITE MIME.

They had also dressed up like mimes and pretended to be street performers so they could do outdoor undercover surveillance without seeming out of place. Their conspicuous attire was so outlandish; no criminal ever suspected them of being undercover cops in disguise.

“What did you do with the panty hose?” Hutch asked with an ornery smirk on his face.

“I ripped them up and saved them for the next time we play Cat Burglar.”

Hutch blushed and laughed again as he said, “You’re incorrigible!”

“Yeah, but that’s why you love me,” Starsky gloated.

“And don’t you forget it,” Hutch murmured seductively.

Starsky loved to role-play and make up sex games. Hutch had always dreamed of finding such an adventurous lover, but he never did until he seduced his sexy partner.

“Open the egg, Hutch.”

“I will! Keep your pants on.”

“The sooner you open the damned egg, the faster I can take my pants OFF, Chump!”

“Oh…” Hutch crooned. “So that’s how it’s going to be…”

“If you ever get out of that box!”

“I’ll get out!” Hutch assured his horny partner.

Something as black as a raven’s wing popped out of the white egg and floated to the floor like a huge silky leaf.

Hutch bent over with difficulty again, and picked up another mysterious scrap of fabric.

When he stretched it out between his hands, Hutch discovered that it was a black silk Zorro mask!

Starsky smiled beatifically when he heard Hutch chortle. The sound of the blond’s boyish giggles wafted through the air like bright shiny bubbles.

Biting his lower lip and grabbing his crotch to stem the rising tide of semen that threatened to burst from his cock, Hutch struggled to get his breathing and his hormones under control again, so he could speak without croaking like a teenager who’s voice was changing.

“Where’s the hat, the cape and sword, Starsk?”

“Out here,” Starsky murmured.

Starsky’s deep, sexy, voice was beguiling. The husky sound of his lover’s hot, baritone voice rippled through Hutch like oscillating waves. 

Captivated by the ripples of desire that lapped at his balls and surged through his cock, Hutch teetered on the on the brink of another spontaneous orgasm. Hutch could easily imagine Starsky sitting on the other side of the black-curtained box, dressed in skin-tight black breeches, shiny leather riding boots, a dynamic black cape and a form-fitting white shirt that was open to the waist.

He could even see the silver glint of the sword’s hilt as it hung in a leather scabbard from a broad belt around Starsky’s lean waist.

Starsky believed that Halloween was a holiday that should be celebrated all year long. He loved to eat candy, dress up in costumes and delight Hutch with elaborate role-playing scenarios that added spontaneous zest to their already incredible sex life.

Starsky’s ingenuity never ceased to amaze Hutch. The lucky blond savored and cherished every deliciously carnal memory they’d ever created during these creative, erotic interludes.

Hutch waited as patiently as he could during the ensuing silence for Starsky to tell him what he wanted him to do with the black silk mask. When the suspense finally became too much for him to endure, Hutch said, “Have a heart Zorro! If my balls get any bluer, necrosis will render me impotent.”

A plea like that should have made his ardent lover open the box and pull him through the black curtains into a deep, devouring kiss.

When the anticipated reaction did not occur, Hutch frowned for the first time since the egg hunt began.

“If you’re sitting outside this box timing my endurance to this erotic suspense with the second hand of your watch, I’m going to retaliate when I get out of here, Starsk.”

Frustrated to the point of anger, Hutch yanked the black curtains apart defiantly and recoiled when he encountered his own reflection!

Starsky had written a note in red lipstick on the shiny surface of the mirror. WHAT DID YOU EXPECT? ALL MAGICIAN’S BOXES ARE LINED WITH TRICK MIRRORS, HUTCH. 

The lipstick was the same shade of lipstick he had borrowed from Judith so he could write STARSK on the windows of the isolation ward when he was trapped inside a quarantine ward dying of an undiagnosed plague several years ago. Starsky had left his name there as a reminder that he was doing everything he could to ensure Hutch’s survival. The symbology of this message--and the box--was a poignantly Starsky-esque way to celebrate life. Hutch was astonished, delighted and incredibly aroused by his partner’s ingenuity and the depth of the love he was expressing so creatively.

“You bastard!” Hutchinson murmured. “This is one-way glass isn’t it?!”

“Of course,” Starsky gloated. “It’s just like the ones we have in the interrogation rooms at the precinct.”

“I can see you, but you can’t see me, “Starsky sing-songed.

Starsky’s naughty chuckle was so deep and lascivious it gave Hutch goosebumps.

“Sorcerer,” Hutch cursed, smitten by every aspect of his enchanting lover.

Starsky had worked him up into such a froth; Hutch could feel his semen bubbling inside his balls like his scrotum was a witch’s cauldron.

Hutch had to jam both of his hands into his tight jeans and throttle his cock mercilessly so he wouldn’t erupt like a geyser and inundate the cougar-pelt thong. 

Starsky was the only lover he’d ever had who could arouse him like this. Hutch felt like he could feel each one of his sperm writhing inside of the maze of his seminal vesicles.

“If you make me any hotter I’m going to overheat like a radiator, Starsk.”

Starsky’s wicked, husky laughter was spellbinding.

“Good,” Starsky gloated. “I like it when you get all hot and sweaty, Hutch.”

“”I’m so hot right now I feel like I’m going to hyperventilate, Starsk. Please let me out of here! It’s getting claustrophobic,” Hutch lied plaintively.

Hutch pressed his forehead against the one-way glass and writhed ecstatically, but Starsky used every ounce of his willpower stop himself from rescuing his gorgeous partner.

“You’re not claustrophobic, Hutch. You just want out because you feel like a horny lion trapped in a cage.”

“I love it when you get restless and impatient,” Starsky murmured. “That’s why I left you just enough room to writhe. I love to watch you squirm, Babe.”

Hutch wriggled like a fish on a hook. Grumbling and thrashing, he tenaciously explored every seam in the box, looking for a hidden release lever that would open Starsky’s Magic Box-Cage.

By the time Hutch realized the box had been specially constructed so the trip lock was on the OUTSIDE of the box, the sweat-damp blond hair that was clinging to the nape of his neck had curled and was cresting like glistening waves. Starsky’s fingers ached as he admired the silky hair he loved to touch while Hutch’s head was resting in his lap or on his chest.

“You son-of-a-bitch,” Hutch growled irritably.

Starsky chuckled devilishly as he admired the size of the bulge beneath his lover’s tented fly. 

Savoring the impressive sight, Starsky took another sip of white wine from the crystal goblet he was holding. The crisp, tart flavor was a satisfying counter-point to what he was watching.

“I thought you liked my devious mind,” Starsky taunted.

“I do!” Hutch roared. “That’s why I want out of here!”

“You’re not makin’ any sense, Babe. Calm down and get a grip. Take off your jacket so you’ll be more comfortable in there.”

Hutch ripped off his jacket and holster angrily and tossed them into a corner. The green egg had long since fallen out of the pocket of his sweat stained T-shirt. It was lying in the opposite corner of the box. 

Starsky wondered why the green egg was Hutch’s favorite, but he kept his curiosity to himself for now. When Blondie kept something close to his heart, it was best to wait until Hutch was ready to tell you why he was keeping secrets.

Hutch loved to spin around and around on amusement park rides, so Starsky stood up and started rotating the box, because it was mounted on a swiveling base.

The unexpected movement surprised Hutch! As soon as his hands were braced against the side of the box so he wouldn’t fall, Hutch let himself be distracted and enjoyed the ride.

Throwing his head back gleefully so the spinning sensation would be increased, Hutch said, “Where did you get this erotic torture chamber, Starsk?” 

“A kinky lady magician designed the box to my specifications,” Starsky replied. “She’s a friend of the contractors who have been renovating this apartment.”

Hutch was just about to ask how Starsky had gained access to the vacant apartment when he noticed a plethora of strange looking bumps hiding under the gathered folds of black fabric that were anchored to the center of the ceiling by a black satin rose.

“Slow down!” Hutch demanded, marveling at how little the speakers crackled as Starsky stopped moving counter-clockwise and slowly began moving clockwise now. 

Hutch was curious about how the speaker wires were attached to the box, until the satiny folds of fabric parted beneath his fingers like a woman’s labia. 

Beneath the black satin, Hutch discovered that the roof of the box was studded with hooks and eyebolts that winked at him like silver stars in the light that came through the air holes in the top of the box.

Hutch had forgotten about the one-way mirror until Starsky said, “There are bolts and hooks under the false floor too, Hutch.”

Hutch groaned orgasmically when a tidal wave of desire nearly drove him to his knees again.

“How long have you been planning this escapade?”

“Long enough to do it right,” Starsky quipped.

“Right?!” Hutch scoffed. “It’s wrong to keep me in here when you need me as much as I need you, Starsk. Please let me out of here.”

“Please is not the magic word,” Starsky taunted.

Hutch scowled furiously as he said, “I’m not in the mood for guessing games, Starsky!”

“I’m not asking you to solve The Riddle of the Sphinx, Hutch. All you gotta do is strip for me and let me watch you pleasure yourself.”

“What?” 

The blond’s startled gasp made Starsky shiver.

Hutch threw back his head ecstatically as soon as he realized Starsky would not relent until his hot cum splashed all over the one-way mirror.

“You kinky, merciless, voyeur!” Hutch swore between clenched teeth.

Hutch had to jam his hands back into his jeans, and throttle his cock savagely, to prevent his balls from prematurely expelling his frothy ticket to paradise.

Starsky was perfectly capable of tormenting him relentlessly if he did not go along with the devious but delightful whims of his erotic Inquisitioner.

“I’d rather come inside YOU, Starsky! Let me out so I can make love to you,” Hutch pleaded.

Starsky was not made of stone, but his cock was as hard as stone at the moment. He had to stop turning the box so he could throttle his own cock because the cockring he was wearing wasn’t doing a damn bit of good.

“No!” Starsky snarled as he braced himself against the outside of the box in a standing one-arm pushup stance.

Starsky’s emphatic reply made Hutch roar inarticulately. His frustrated ululation’s ricocheted off the walls of the box and nearly deafened him, but Starsky remained aloof.

Determined to see his wet dream come true, Starsky lurched back to the chair and sat down with difficulty.

Fortifying his resolve with a gulp of wine, Starsky said, “Take off your clothes, Hutch. I wanna see every inch of that hard golden body.”

Starsky’s seductive voice enthralled the enchanted blond cop. The searing words started a fire inside of Hutch that consumed him in one giant whoosh of unbridled desire.

At that moment Hutch would have done anything to please the man he loved. Smiling provocatively, Hutch slowly removed his damp T-shirt as he said, “I haven’t seen you naked and aroused for over a week either, Starsk. This isn’t fair!”

“Who said life was fair, Hutch?”

“Life seldom is,” Hutch agreed. “But love should always be fair.”

Starsky winced, but only for a moment. Reminding himself that Hutch had a devious mind too, Starsky’s eyes remained riveted to the tantalizing masculine image in the one-way mirror as he dug his blunt nails into the wooden arms of the sturdy antique chair.

Starsky had to use every ounce of his willpower to stay in the chair and not yank Hutch out of there! 

Starsky wanted his handsome lover so much he surged towards the mirror-door when Hutch knelt down and beckoned him with that come-hither grin he could never resist.

“You know you want me, Babe. Let me out so I can suck you.”

Starsky’s body began to tremble violently when Hutch sensuously licked his lips and said, “I’ve been craving your cum like it’s an illegal drug, Starsk. Let me out so I can get my fix.”

“Not until you do what I asked,” Starsky rasped.

“Asked!” Hutch scoffed. “Demanded is more like it!”

“This is sexual extortion, Starsky!”

“So?” Starsky taunted unrepentantly. “Arrest me.”

Memories of playing Cops & Robbers with Starsky tormented Hutch like invisible fiery tongues were licking his cock and balls.

“How can I handcuff you to my bed if I’m locked in here, Dummy?”

Starsky scowled.

“You know what I told you about calling me that, Hutch.”

“Retaliate at will, Starsk. I’m ready for you,” Hutch taunted, standing up and taking off his belt with brazen disregard for Starsky’s fair warning.

Hutch knew it unnerved his tender lover when his dark side emerged from the shadows of his soul. But Hutch deliberately hung his belt from one of the hooks by the buckle and stroked it like he was ardently arousing a man’s flaccid cock.

Starsky unsuccessfully tried to stifle an aroused groan as he watched Hutch drop into a crouch and sensuously tease the tongue of the leather belt like he was dueling with a real tongue. Then he suddenly fisted the golden-brown leather and began tormenting the tip of the belt like it was an oozing cockslit.

“This could be you I’m teasing, Starsk. Please let me out of here!”

“NO!” Starsky shouted emphatically, gaze locked on the reflection of his lover’s smoky blue eyes.

“Even you have your limits,” Hutch taunted Starsky knowingly.

“Take them off,” Starsky growled, when Hutch started rubbing his cock through the dense fabric of his jeans.

“Say the magic word,” Hutch taunted his lover wickedly.

“Anaconda,” Starsky replied, voice hard and unyielding as he called Hutch’s bluff and trumped his ace in the hole.

“Checkmate,” Hutch conceded as he nodded once solemnly. He immediately stepped back so he could prop his butt against the back wall so he wouldn’t fall when he peeled off his tight jeans.

The man who killed the anaconda his cowboy boots were made out of, deserved his obedience. Starsky had risked his life many times to save his. Without a thought for his own safety, Starsky had jumped into Brazil’s Araguaia River and savagely gutted the monstrous snake that tried to drown him and eat him during their last vacation. Starsky didn’t like to swim, so he’d never really learned how to swim correctly. This should have put him at a disadvantage, but Starsky was so fiercely determined to rescue Hutch he swam like a fish and attacked that snake with their Bowie knife like he was a human piranha and the knife was his teeth.

Hutch pulled off his boots without further prevarication and Starsky laughed as soon as he saw his lover’s socks.

“Yellow socks with a green T-shirt? Who’re you tryin’ to kid, Baby Blue?!”

 

Hutch tried not to smile but he couldn’t suppress the urge to grin.

“You know I love it when you wear green and gold, Hutch. You came home primed for seduction! You can cut out that innocent act right now!” Starsky snapped. “You’re lovin’ every minute of this and you know it!”

“I never said I wasn’t,” Hutch gloated.

Starsky adored that salacious smile, especially when Hutch’s face was flushed with desire.

“Cockteaser,” Hutch grumbled as he unsnapped his jeans.

“That’s the pot calling the kettle black!” Starsky murmured, watching his ornery lover slowly part his zippered fly tooth-by-tooth. 

Hutch was so masculine and so lusty he looked like a statue of a Nordic fertility god. 

When his cock suddenly surged out of his jeans, the cougar pelt codpiece was stretched so tight; the straps of the thong were digging into the rose-gold flesh that covered Hutch’s lean, powerful hips. 

There would be bruises on his lover’s fair, satiny skin tomorrow.

Starsky gripped the wooden arms of the hand-carved chair so tight, the wood cracked beneath his white-knuckled hands.

“What was that?” Hutch taunted, recognizing the familiar sound.

“I think I just ruined another wooden chair,” Starsky replied sheepishly.

Hutch giggled.

“We’re going to have to find you one that’s made out of solid redwood, Samson.”

“Shut up and peel off your jeans! I wanna see your fuzzy thighs, Babe.”

Hutch laughed gleefully as he stripped off his jeans. His legs were sparsely salted with pale downy hair. Starsky never ceased to be fascinated by how blond he was from head to toe. 

Starsky loved to tickle his own palm by rubbing it against the translucent peach fuzz on Hutch’s muscular thighs. Remembering how that hair was as soft as white dandelion fuzz, Starsky savored the memories of all the varied textures of his lover’s body hair.

“You can caress my fuzzy thighs AND tug on my pubic hair, if you let me out of here, Starsk.”

They couldn’t keep their hands off of each other when they were off duty. They were both unabashed cuddlebugs, so they spent an inordinate amount of time snuggling in bed, on the couch, or in the Torino. Unlike Starsky’s hairy chest, Hutch’s chest was a smooth as a baby’s bottom, so one of Starsky’s hands constantly ended up in the hair on his head or the hair between his legs when they fell asleep in each others arms.

Waking up with David Michael Starsky sharing his bed, was the way Ken Hutchinson wanted to wake up every day for the rest of his life. Their bodies entwined like vines when they slept and they woke up every morning feeling elated because their bodies interlocked like puzzle pieces when they held each other or made love to each other.

Hutch had never felt so cherished, so desirable, or so loved. Even now, when he was separated from his lover’s magical hands, because he was trapped in Starsky’s Magic Box, Hutch felt so special and very blessed.

“See what you do to me, Starsk?”

Hutch brazenly pinched his swollen nipple while his other hand provocatively cradled his painfully swollen genitals.

“I want you so bad it hurts, Starsk. Please let me out of here!” Hutch begged his partner winsomely.

“Not until you erupt, Babe.”

A spot of pre-cum had left its mark on the cougar-pelt thong. Starsky nearly went out of his mind as he watched Hutch rub the wet spot against his oozing glans as he undulated in autoerotic abandon.

“See how wet I am, Starsk? You know you want to suck me. Open the door,” Hutch murmured, desperately trying to seduce his partner one more time.

Ken Hutchinson’s dulcet voice had always turned Starsky on. When Hutch deliberately lowered his voice and gave him that sexy, irresistible smile, Starsky’s body and mind lurched so orgasmically he felt like he’d been he’d been turned inside out.

Hutch grinned triumphantly when Starsky let out a tormented yowl.

Ignoring his reflection in the glass was difficult but not impossible. Hutch had been practicing meditation long enough that he could stare at anything but turn his focus inward and concentrate on something else. Keeping his mind focused on memories and thoughts of Starsky, Hutch slipped his fingers under the side straps of the thong and teased his own knuckles as he lost himself in the sensuous texture of the soft fabrics.

Knowing that he was driving Starsky crazy with his erotic dawdling, Hutch reveled in the fact that he was desired by such clever, sexy man. 

“You know what would make this even better?” Hutch murmured, as he caressed the shadowy bruises forming on his hips.

“What?” Starsky replied breathlessly, his voice scraped raw by the intensity of his longing.

“You could be in here with me, touching me like this, teasing me without mercy…”

“That’ll happen,” Starsky vowed. “But you’ve gotta give me what I want first.”

“Is this what you want?” Hutch asked as he suddenly whisked off the codpiece so his cock could leap towards the mirror.

“Yeah!” Starsky sighed ecstatically. “That’s exactly what I want, Babe.”

“Then come and get it!” Hutch taunted, deliberately turning around so he could give his breathless lover a spectacular view as he pried the cleft strap out of the fissure of his ass.

More wood cracked beneath Starsky’s hands as he pounded the wooden floor with the heel of his left boot. The sounds Starsky made reminded Hutch of an agitated stud bull who was so horny he’d hump anything that stood still for more than five seconds in a breeding paddock. 

“It sounds like I’m not the only one who’s restless and aroused, my sexy satyr.”

Hutch smiled, knowing his favorite Minotaur WAS wearing boots, not sneakers.

Starsky’s voice sounded strained when he said, ”I’d let you nail horseshoes to the soles of my feet if you’d just get on with it Hutch!”

Hutch laughed wickedly as he slowly turned around while he finished removing the tight thong.

Starsky wanted his handsome lover so much; he shivered as he watched the cougar-pelt thong rasp against the downy golden hair on Hutch’s long, muscular legs.

They couldn’t keep their hands off of each other, because the contrasting textures of their well-toned masculine bodies was a source of never-ending delight and fascination. They could hold each other and touch each other for hours while they relaxed. The slightest caress fed their sybaritic sexual preoccupation with each other like an eternal flame burned between them. 

Starsky was addicted to the feel of that petal-soft skin stretched so taut over his lover’s plentiful, hard muscles. He couldn’t believe how casually Hutch touched himself as he kicked the thong aside.

Starsky’s admiration for his partner was so reverent at times; making love to Hutch seemed like an epiphany.

Starsky was amazed that Hutch could ignore that glorious reflection. Starsky was so captivated by Hutch’s beauty, one of his favorite fantasies was imagining Hutch posing for a picture of Narcissus as he gazed into the pond at his own reflection. The only thing he had to do was find an artist as talented as John William Waterhouse to paint that picture. 

Starsky didn’t know much about art. He just knew what he liked when he saw it. When he turned around to see who had entered the shooting range at the Academy early that Saturday morning, Starsky saw a vision that belonged in a Waterhouse painting walk through that door. Starsky had never seen such a beautiful man. When he found out that Hutch was as beautiful on the inside as he was on the outside, Starsky was awed.

Hutch snapped Starsky out of his wondrous reverie when he spoke.

“Is this what you had in mind?” Hutch murmured, ice-fire eyes blazing like a blue aurora borealis when he laced the fingers of his left hand through a cluster of eyebolts that were screwed into the ceiling of the box.

The ardent expression on Hutch’s face rendered Starsky speechless.

Hutch smiled wickedly as the fingers of his right hand lazily stroked his tumescent cock.

Hutch got so caught up in pleasuring himself he was lulled into a erotic stupor that reminded him of laying naked in the sun on the deck of a gently rocking boat while Starsky rubbed suntan lotion onto his back. 

The seductive rhythm of his own hand soon began to mimic the delicious memories of how Starsky often stroked him to sleep when he was too wound up to relax and chill out himself. The slow, firm strokes were not THAT enchanting, but they were damned close when Hutch closed his eyes and allowed himself to surrender his remaining inhibitions so he could savor the erotic experience Starsky had initiated.

Hutch had been born with a slow-burning sexual fuse. Even when it was ignited, Hutch could take his own sweet time seeking sexual gratification. Once Starsky was hard, he stayed hard until he ejaculated. Fortunately, Starsky was multi-orgasmic. His ever-ready cock was insatiable! That’s why they were so compatible sexually.

Starsky enjoyed how Hutch could get hard and remain semi-hard for hours like the waxing and waning of the ocean’s tides. Their sex drives meshed like yin and yang. Starsky could revel in being a cockteaser when he was with Hutch.

Sure, they’d had their share of ‘Wham-Bam-Thank You, Man!’ encounters, but the majority of their sexual interludes were idyllically prolonged because their sexual stamina was as similar as their sexual preferences.

They were both thinking the same thought while Hutch wantonly stroked his aching cock: What did I ever do to deserve such a boon? At moments like these they felt blessed by Aprhodite and they knew exactly how Pygmalion felt when Aphrodite’s magic brought Galatea to life.

Hutch felt so buoyant his heart soared like a bright golden kite heading for the Sun. 

Starsky loved watching Hutch strop that nine-inch Viking spike between his legs. When Hutch gradually quickened the rhythmic strokes Starsky knew his lover was heading for that glorious moment when a man felt like Icarus tumbling out of the sky, because the intensity of his orgasm had melted his imaginary wings.

When Hutch threw his head back so his golden hair streamed behind him like the mane of a galloping palomino stallion, Starsky could feel the imaginary Sun on Hutch’s face as his handsome blond stud became rhapsodized by what he was doing to himself.

Eyes closed, head thrashing from side-to-side, Hutch started fantasizing out loud.

“We’re on a boat,” Hutch murmured. “Can you hear the sails rustling when the wind gusts, Starsk?”

“Yes,” Starsky murmured ecstatically. 

Hutch’s voice was so mesmerizing he could make you envision anything when he sang or rambled like this.

Starsky yanked open the laces of his fly and grabbed his own cock rapaciously after he wriggled out of his black leather prison.

“Are you with me?” Hutch murmured fretfully.

He’d heard quite a bit of rustling, but Starsky had not spoken again. He had to know if Starsky was pleasuring himself too before he continued.

“Always Babe,” Starsky gasped. 

The sexy pitch of Starsky’s voice when he crooned in the throes of passion was distinctively gruff and breathless.

“I’m always with you Hutch.”

Hutch smiled beatifically as he said, “To the gallows foot and after.”

Starsky was intrigued by his lover’s words, because it sounded like Hutch was quoting poetry again, but he was too distracted by his own yearning to care where the words came from. Starsky’s washboard abs spasmed gleefully as he shook his head back and forth in affectionate amusement. Hutch was always spouting poetry and romantic song lyrics at the oddest times…

The gorgeous blond started to thrust his hips in time with the hypnotic rhythm of his hand, so Starsky matched the pace of his hand to Hutch’s so they could stroke their own cocks in perfect synch.

“What am I wearing?” Starsky asked his lover mischievously, keeping the fires of Hutch’s fantasy burning. 

Hutch laughed and said, “You’re wearing a pirate costume.”

Starsky laughed too. “With or without the eye-patch?” Starsky inquired mischievously.

Hutch only frowned for a couple of seconds as he zeroed in on that part of Starsky’s mental image. “I don’t know,” Hutch was forced to admit. “I’m too busy ogling the huge bulge in your tight black pants.”

Starsky smirked wolfishly. “You don’t know me as well as you think you do, Babe. I’m wearing’ pirate pants made out of navy blue velvet.”

“Yeah!” Hutch sighed, his voice husky with longing. The mental image of Starsky wearing tight velvet pants with a brass button fly was much better.

“All I can think about while I’m tied to that mast is how much I want to rip those buttons off your fly with my teeth.”

“Oh!” Starsky groaned, arcing towards the box like Hutch was a magician doing a levitation trick.

“Like that?” Hutch teased.

“You know I do!”

Hutch grinned with lascivious pride when he gloated. “I can do lots of things without using my hands, Starsk.”

“I know,” Starsky murmured, savoring every hot, steamy memory.

“Watch what I CAN do with my hands, Starsk.”

“I can’t take my eyes off of you, Hutch. You know that!”

“Not in here I don’t!” Hutch snapped.

“I’m not opening the door, Turtle. Tease your foreskin open. I wanna see your naked glans.”

Hutch did as he was bidden, knowing how much Starsky enjoyed watching the translucent skin part like the hood of a cobra’s head when his glans swelled and exposed his oozing cockslit.

Starsky licked his parched lips. 

“I can taste you even now,” Starsky murmured, though the only pre-cum he could smell at the moment was his own.

“So can I!” Hutch confessed breathlessly.

“Do it for me, Babe. I want you so bad it hurts!”

Motivated by that irresistible incentive, the captivated blond was soon thrusting his pistoning cock into his fist like it was a jackhammer.

One stroke became two. Two strokes became three. Three stokes became four… The relentless strokes became shorter, harder and faster, until they abruptly stopped all together.

“STAR-SKEE!!!” Hutch wailed, his body convulsing like he was having some kind of epileptic seizure when hot, frothy semen erupted from his cock like a geyser.

“HUUUTCH!” Starsky roared, as the jubilant expulsion of his own hot cum arched out from his hard cock like a rainbow trying to reach his captive lover.

They milked their own cocks without mercy, but they were both so aroused, they remained achingly hard and bereft despite the exhilarating mutual orgasm.

As soon as he could move Starsky opened the mirror-door, because Hutch was kicking the drop-down panel so hard the box was rocking on it’s rotating base. When Starsky heard the wood starting to crack beneath the blond’s crazed onslaught, he was afraid Hutch would hurt himself.

Hutch quit roaring like a mountain lion as soon as he heard the latch release. Starsky couldn’t help but smile when that long, erect cock almost whapped him in the face when he opened the door. 

The release catch was on the bottom of the box, so the magician’s assistant could open either the trap door or the mirror door with a deft down-kick. 

You could open the box from the outside with a deft down-kick too, but Starsky could barely stand upright, so he was kneeling before his Nordic Adonis when the mirror-door popped open.

Hutch smiled triumphantly as he tousled his lover’s dark, sweaty curls. “Just where I want you,” Hutch gloated.

Starsky had yanked off his boots before he started snorting like a caged bull, so he was naked under the open white shirt, that clung to his shoulders, arms and back like a second skin as it gaped. The rest of the Zorro costume was strewn across the floor of the room and the magic box, while the cape, hat, and sword hung dramatically nearby on a familiar brass coat rack.

“Are you crazy?” Starsky grumbled. “You’re barefoot! If you get splinters in your foot…”

Starsky’s rebuke was smothered in mid-sentence by a deep, voracious kiss.

Hutch’s heart skipped a beat when Starsky pulled him down and dipped him backward into the box, before he started kissing his way towards his groin.

“Gotta have you, Babe.”

“Me too!” Hutch clamored as he pulled his ravenous partner into a reciprocal sixty-nine position inside the box.

The space was too narrow. Starsky’s legs were cramped—until he donkey-kicked a hidden lever and the drop-down door automatically slid back up into it’s hidden recess. 

Hutch pushed Starsky away fretfully as he eyed the potential danger.

“Not in here,” Hutch insisted. He’d kicked the door so hard trying to get out of the box; the door was only halfway up. 

No way was he going to let Starsky risk injuring those sexy bowed legs when they could tumble onto the floor and suck each other in safety.

“Come here,” Hutch demanded as he hauled Starsky out of the box and greedily peeled off his tight, sweat-stained shirt.

Hutch’s lean body was surprisingly strong. Hutch manhandled him out of the box effortlessly and the strength in his lover’s arms thrilled Starsky.

As soon as he was naked, Starsky asserted his own strength and they wrestled joyously until they ended up in that same sixty-nine position.

They reached for each other simultaneously and sucked each other hungrily. Their insatiable thirst for each other would never be quenched.

Greedy tongues licked and skewered oozing cockslits as they marveled at their differences and rejoiced in their diversity.

Starsky’s circumcised cock fascinated Hutch, just as his uncircumcised cock intrigued Starsky. The erotic inconsequentiality mesmerized them because there was something incredibly triumphant in the fact that a Jew and a Gentile could revel in such a small, seemingly insignificant thing that was meant to mark them as separate, but only made them feel more special to each other.

Starsky’s pubic hair was as thick, dark and curly as the hair on his head. His dagger-length cock jutted out from that brown nest of hair like some magnificent one-eyed snake-beast. Hutch had affectionately named Starsky’s eleven-inch cock Cyclops. Starsky still called it Mike. 

Starsky had been giving Hutch’s cock nicknames for years. Calling him The Blond Blintz was the first double entendre that became a nickname. Others soon followed after they became lovers. His favorites were: Blond Beauty, Golden Dragon and Thor’s Spike.

Hutch swirled his tongue around the base of Starsky’s glans with wicked glee as Starsky repeatedly licked the underside of his glans like a cat thirstily licking cream from a bowl on the floor.

Writhing in each other’s arms, they both hissed, sighed, and groaned ecstatically, because licking their way to the base of their cocks was an experience they both liked to savor.

Starsky loved how Hutch nuzzled his pubic curls with the tip of his nose before he nipped some, swirled them around his tongue and captured them with his teeth so he could tug on his intimate hair so delightfully. Hutch was in a sensual mood now, but Starsky also loved it when Hutch did that when he was in a playful mood. When that happened they’d tussle like two Lab puppies, one dark, one golden, who were nipping at each other’s tails.

“I love you so much,” Starsky murmured as he gently blew on the tip of Hutch’s cock like he was trying to blow bubbles into the wind.

Hutch surged toward him like an archer’s arrow as Starsky swirled his knees gently against either side of his lover’s fair head. Hutch thought Starsky’s bowed legs were sexy and Starsky never missed an opportunity to caress that silky blond hair with any part of his anatomy.

“I love you too,” Hutch murmured dreamily. “More than you could know.”

“Show me,” Starsky demanded breathlessly. 

Hutch laughed and playfully nipped Starsky’s balls. Starsky let out a short, delighted groan, so Hutch sucked one into his mouth and used his tongue to tease it while he savored it. While he did this, Hutch also grabbed handfuls of Starsky’s nether cheeks and pulled them apart so the wind coming through the open windows would lap at his lover’s exposed anus.

Starsky began to undulate incessantly. After Hutch used his mouth and hands to work his partner into a sexual frenzy, he pulled Starsky onto his chest and pushed him down so he could slip under his lover and surge into a position behind and above him.

It never ceased to amaze Starsky how klutzy Hutch could be at times, yet he could move with menacing ease when he was stalking a criminal, and be so erotically graceful when they were making love.

“Smooth move,” Starsky complimented, purring like a horny cat.

“So’s this,” Hutch vowed, as he provocatively kissed his way down Starsky’s back.

“Fetishist,” Starsky gloated, when Hutch began teasing the triangle of anomalous hair at the base of his spine, before he began nibbling on the hot buns he found so appealing.

“I told you I was a butt muncher.”

Starsky laughed and swatted Hutch playfully when he suddenly curled into a fetal position and his partner clung to his backside like a barnacle.

“Pilot fish!” Starsky teased Hutch.

“Sperm whale,” Hutch retaliated.

“Ass kisser is the last words anyone would ever use to describe you, Hutch. Unless they saw you doing this,” Starsky taunted.

“Ha. Ha.” Hutch gloated as Starsky writhed beneath his ravaging mouth. “You’re loving every minute of this and you know it.”

“Hey! That was MY line, you scene-stealer.”

“So?” Hutch sassed. “It’s true, isn’t it?”

“Oh yeah,” Starsky groan-sighed.

Hutch wickedly teased his way through Sodom’s Gate and Starsky’s exultant response to the erotic torment was very gratifying to them both. Starsky was so tightly furled, Hutch felt like he was coaxing a rose to open before dawn with the tip of his tongue.

Exploring Starsk with one of the most intimate parts of his own body was a sensual exhilaration that was incredibly provocative because it never ceased to seem like a forbidden pleasure.

Every thrust of his tongue sent a ripple of desire from his mouth to his cock, and Hutch could seldom remain cool, calm and composed for long. Making love to Starsky destroyed all of the walls he’d carefully maintained for so many years. 

Those walls came tumbling down like an avalanche as soon as he replaced his tongue with his cock and gently eased himself inside his yearning lover in an ecstasy of triumphant virility.

Starsky accepted him joyously, eagerly responding to the slightest stimulus with the same irrepressible attitude he brought to everything he did.

It was impossible for Hutch not to be enchanted by Starsky’s willingness to live life to it’s fullest and love him in every way imaginable. Giving himself to Starsky was so pleasurable; the need had become a biological imperative for Hutch. 

Being parted from his intoxicating lover was worse than trying to overcome that heroin addiction cold turkey! Heroin he could do without, but Starsky was something Hutch needed like air to breathe. Without Starsky by his side, Hutch had hovered around the sound stage like a big blond thundercloud while he was on assignment.

But he was happy now! And so was Starsky.

“That’s it, Babe! Give me what only you can give me! This feels SO GOOD, Hutch! God, how I’ve missed you!”

Hutch was thrusting into Starsky so ecstatically; he was beyond words and beyond coherent thought. All he could do was rejoice inarticulately, knowing Starsky would instinctively understand every garbled word.

The only time either of them was rendered speechless was when they were climbing to the summit of rapture’s peak from inside their partner’s writhing body.

They came simultaneously, their cocks going off like cannon bursts before their ball-wrenching orgasm reached a crescendo that made them thrust so fast in tandem they felt like they were launching fireworks into the night sky. Dazzled by the intensity of their simultaneous orgasm, Starsky and Hutch made love to each other until every drop of semen I their balls had been purged in an ecstasy of mutual desire.

Loving each other made them feel incredibly satisfied, but the exhilaration only served to reinforce their undeniable desires. No matter how often they cuddled each other afterwards, no matter how satiated and content they felt, Starsky & Hutch knew they would always want each other and need each other and this was very reassuring to the longtime friends. 

 

Epilogue:  
Coming down from such a pinnacle of passion took a while. Starsky and Hutch felt so blissed-out, they weren’t even aware of the rug burns on their knees. When they finally did notice the friction burns they just laughed and agreed that the wounds were a reflection of the lust-fire still smoldering inside of them.

There were so many paint spattered drop cloths hung up around the vacant apartment to protect the renovations in progress, the guys felt like the were inside of a weird chrysalis. They were as cozy as two butterflies who’d just turned back into caterpillars that were hiding out in a cocoon built for two.

“I am so glad your assignment is over, Hutch. I missed you so much I felt like I was going crazy,” Starsky confessed as they cuddled.

“You felt like you were going crazy?! I was the one who had to protect Miss Histrionics.” 

Starsky laughed when he remembered how nervous this assignment had made him. Hutch had been assigned to protect a beautiful French film star who was being stalked by a crazed fan. Nicole DuBois adamantly refused to be guarded by anyone who could not understand her when she spoke her native tongue. Hollywood Division only had one cop on their detail that spoke French, so they sent out a general SOS to other precincts in the Greater Los Angeles Area. Dobey volunteered Hutch, because he knew Hutch spoke several different languages fluently enough to complete such an assignment successfully.

Hutch had tried his damnedest to sprain his tongue so he would not be separated from Starsky. Starsky enjoyed every moment of this endeavor, but Hutch’s tongue proved surprisingly resilient.

Hutch didn’t particularly like it when Starsky said, “This is what happens when you brag too much, Babe. You give away too much information that can be used against you in the future.” Starsky had taunted. “Quit flaunting your erudition and you won’t get stuck with ‘plumb assignments’ like this.”

Every guy in the squad envied Hutch his ‘plumb assignment’ because Nicole DuBois was the sex kitten du jour at the moment. She was a stunningly beautiful woman and Hutch was a gorgeous man. The guys started taking bets on how long it would take for “Blondie to bag her”. Starsky was forced to place his own bet just to keep their secret between them a little longer.

Nicole DuBois was temptation personified, so Starsky was very relieved when Hutch started ranting about the young starlet’s imperious temper tantrums and phony crying jags. Hutch had no patience for women who manufactured false drama and carried on like spoiled brats. 

His instincts turned out to be right. Hutch proved that DuBois had hired someone to stalk her as a publicity stunt. The studio was not pleased, but the execs contacted the Mayor’s office and the Chief’s office to keep a lid on the truth. The hoax was covered up because no one really wanted to press charges. The file was sealed before Dobey was forced to deliver it to the Chief’s office personally. The Chief patiently listened to Dobey’s indignant tirade about wasted manpower, but he let Dobey know in no uncertain terms that no one involved with the DuBois case was allowed to discuss it now that it had been solved. It was over and that was that, as far as the Bay City’s Chief and the LAPD were concerned.

Starsky had been loaned out to Vice while Hutch was gone. Rousting pimps and hookers was not his bag, so Starsky endured the assignment like a bear with a sore tooth. He did his job well, but he was in a surly mood. The only compliment he got was, “You’ve been hanging around Dobey too long, Starsky. His grizzly moods are startin’ to rub off on you.”

Starsky never answered the smirking, “Why so glum, Chum?” questions. His private life was none of their business. Starsky only shared his private thoughts and feelings with Hutch. Everyone knew that, so they eventually backed off and let him mope in peace.

“I’m glad I’m home too,” Hutch murmured. “Whoever said absence makes the heart grow fonder was nuts! There’s no way I could possibly love you any more than I already do. Being parted from you just annoyed the hell out of me.”

“I know,” Starsky whispered soothingly. 

The delighted Cheshire Cat grin on Starsky’s face was worth more to Hutch than all the money in the trust fund he wasn’t allowed to touch because his parents had disowned him.

Starsky’s love was a priceless gift that meant more to him than life itself. The best part was knowing that his love meant as much to Starsky.

Curled up like two sleepy kittens that enjoyed napping in sunbeams, Starsky and Hutch kissed each other to sleep in their chrysalis full of golden light. 

The last words the content lovers said to each other was:

“Happy Easter, Starsk.”

“You too, Babe. Welcome home.”

 

(The End)


End file.
